For The Man Who Thought He Was

When I'm Writing A Book I Prefer Not To Speak About It, Because Only When The Book Is Finished Can I Try To Understand What I've Really Done And To Compare My Intentions With The Result.

Why Come To Trude? I Asked Myself. And I Already Wanted To Leave. You Cand Resume Your Flight Whereever You Like," They Say To Me, "but You Will Arive At Another Trude, Absolutely The Same, Detail By Detail. The World Is Covered By A Sole Trude Which Does Not Begin And Does Not End. Only The Names Of The Airport Changes.

Don't Ask Where The Rest Of This Book Is!" It Is A Shrill Cry That Comes From An Undefined Spot Among The Shelves. "all Books Continue In The Beyond.

Photography Has A Meaning Only If It Exhausts All Possible Images.

Novelists Tell That Piece Of Truth Hidden At The Bottom Of Every Lie.